


Hangovers

by Misanthropic_marksman



Category: Dust Runners, Original Work
Genre: alcohol mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-10 22:04:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3305036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misanthropic_marksman/pseuds/Misanthropic_marksman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Specter brothers drink a little too much and wake up in  'wonderful' spirits..</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hangovers

**Author's Note:**

> (Just some random writing.)

"Heath…."

Flies buzzed up in a spooked flurry as a pitiful groan grated into existence. It’s origin was the youngest Specter sibling, who was currently stretched unceremoniously across the length of a ratty couch. There was a damp cloth draped across his eyes which was a blessing both in the Waste’s normal heat and the fact that it kept the devil sun from seeping through the curtains and stabbing him him the pupils.

"Heeeaaath…"

The next groan was louder, longer, more annoying. Gusts of wind blustered sand and dirt against the walls of the shelter, making an unbearable racket. Somewhere off in the distance two or so dogs were in a fight over something, snapping and snarling, growling and barking. Hadley wasn’t the dog kicking type, nor was Heath, but.. fucking hell, it was as if the universe itself was stuck at high volume no human was supposed to be aware of.

"Heathcliii-oof!"

Hadley’s belly aching was brought to a halt by a dusty pillow hurtling across the room and planting itself squarely in his face. This was followed close by a growled,  _“Shut the fuck up,”_  from a very disgruntled certain elder brother and a few seconds later an additional,  _” ‘s too fucking early. Shut up,”_  came as well. Which made Hadley grin despite himself. They both had gotten plastered the night before- not a smart move by any means- but sometimes you had to say 'fuck it' and throw caution to the wind to keep from going nuts on Terra.

The occasion which had called for such copious amounts of booze, was a successful bounty head that had resulted in a nest of now dead bandits and one very dead bandit leader. Both brothers were quite pleased with themselves and even more pleased at the profit they turned up over it all. It was more than most of what they gathered over the course of three weeks combined. If that wasn't a reason to celebrate then they really didn't know what was.

However. No one present in the small building was celebrating anymore. Any jubilant enthusiasm that might have been there the night prior was now buried six feet under the memories of many unnecessary shots of bad Tequila and regret.. so. much. regret. 

Curious as to his brother's condition, Hadley pulled up his big boy pants and risked raising a hand to lift the corner of the rag up, peeking into the blinding light of morning. "Fuckk.." He hissed, squinting immediately then blinking furiously when that action alone wasn't enough. It took a few moments, but his vision cleared enough to make out the massive figure of poor Heathcliff sprawled gracelessly on a broken down armchair that had seen many years of being chewed on by various vermin. Heath himself didn't look much better, the only thing that was missing was some stuffing sticking out here and there. The older of the two was sitting with one leg hooked up over the one completely straight arm of the chair and his head leaned back into the shadows of a corner. 

The sight made Hadley scowl but just as he opened his mouth to say something, his brother's hand came up and cut him off. There were a few seconds of silence... then,

"Shut it."

And with that Hadley just smiled, scoffed a laugh and settled back into the couch. They could do with a day off anyway..


End file.
